


Greedy

by chevronx



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: AU, Age Difference, Angst, Cheating, Dialogue Heavy, Drinking, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Jeon Wonwoo/Kim Mingyu, Sexual Tension, Smoking, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 10:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,877
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27968897
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chevronx/pseuds/chevronx
Summary: The sudden passing of Myungho's father not only leaves him with a sense of great loss but also a profound resentment.Myungho learns the true colors of his father and it leads him to know, hate, and fall in love with Mingyu.
Relationships: Kim Mingyu/Xu Ming Hao | The8, Lee Seokmin | DK/Xu Ming Hao | The8
Comments: 12
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I need to tell you beforehand that English is not my first language, so the grammar will never be one hundred percent correct. However, I try my hardest to make as few mistakes as possible.
> 
> I am not allergic to feedback so please don't hesitate to give me your thoughts and loves ❤

It has been a week since the funeral of Myungho’s father.

He is trying desperately to believe that his father still exists. After his father’s death, every morning, he wakes up at five-fifty, exactly five minutes before six.

He still hopes that at six, his father would knock then open his bedroom door and would tell him that the breakfast is ready like the way his morning routine used to be. His father would greet him with his usual radiant smile, wearing a green apron and red cooking gloves. Myungho would struggle to wake up first, but when he smelled the aroma of his father’s delicious breakfast, he would get up from his bed, walk down the stairs, and sit on his dinner chair. His father would greet him with a warm and cheerful morning greeting then put a glass of fresh orange juice and a plate of breakfast food on the table.

It is six o'clock. Five minutes have passed.

No one knocks then opens his bedroom door, telling him that the breakfast is ready. He doesn’t smell delicious food from the kitchen either.

His mother is undoubtedly still mourning, but he recalls that his mother never cooks anything for him since he was a child. After all, she is a bad cook and an ambitious career woman who always goes to work very early in the morning so she rarely has time for doing domestic chores.

On the contrary, his father, who worked as an editor at a publishing company, had plenty of time in the mornings. He was an excellent cook too and a neat person, so he was very good at organizing the family’s morning chaos by waking them up, preparing delicious breakfast, and making sure that his wife and Myungho didn't leave a thing behind before they go. After Myungho’s mother went to work and Myungho went to college, his father usually washed the dishes and did other domestic chores: doing the laundry, cleaning a floor, dusting off every object in the house. He then would go to work inside his study from ten until afternoon. He sometimes went to the publishing company where he worked though, either for weekly meetings with other editors or meeting with book authors.

Myungho's eyes wander around his bedroom, seeing a calendar hanging above his study desk. Today he is supposed to do private father-son camping. His father even has prepared fishing supplies at the garage and rented a tent for their camping. He was a very organized man, after all, somehow it made him so impressed by his father’s ability to plan and arrange everything in order. Without his father, he and his mother should sit together and talk about the distribution of home duties. Myungho thinks that he can be put in charge of cooking since he learns to cook a little bit from his father. He also can do the laundry but only on weekends, so perhaps his mother will opt for going to the laundromat near their house.

Myungho hears a soft knock on his bedroom door. The door opens, revealing his mother standing there smiling with her red and puffy eyes from crying.

“Myungho darling,” she says, “can you help me cleaning up your father’s study?”

Even after one week has passed since his father’s funeral, his mother still refuses to go inside his father’s study. She is afraid that she will break into tears again. Myungho is sure that his mother wants him to pick all of his father’s belongings there to be donated. She is a very sentimental person to the point where she doesn't want to keep any treasured mementos of his father except a family portrait in the living room.

Myungho nods.

Also, if you want to have breakfast, I already prepared it for you. It's at the dinner table.”

Myungho is still not getting used to shifting his diet from the usual healthy, tasteful breakfast to tasteless eggs and toast and coffee, but he cannot complain.

“Okay,” Myungho says.

His mother gives him a faint smile, “Now I have to go to work. I will go home late so if you want to eat, just order anything you want.”

It is the weekend, but his mother insists on going to work today. Perhaps she has some unfinished job to do, or perhaps burying herself to work is the only remedy to her sadness.

When her mother leaves the house, Myungho gets up from his bed and goes to a bathroom to brush his teeth and wash his face. Then, he picks up several cardboard boxes and large trash bags from a box room and enters his father’s study. When he opens the door, he can smell the fragrance of old books stored neatly in bookshelves.

It brings so many memories.

When he was a child, every night his father often invited him to the study and read him a children’s book with Myungho sitting on his father’s lap. His father would gently put him in bed when he felt sleepy and gave him a goodnight kiss on his forehead. Once Myungho entered elementary school, he was too preoccupied with playing with his friends so they didn’t have that kind of ritual anymore.

Myungho puts down the cardboard boxes on the floor and starts to put his father’s books inside them. Once he is done with the books, he empties the desk drawers. He finds more things inside: paper clips, pens, blank papers, papers with his father’s neat handwriting.

Suddenly he feels emotional.

He is not supposed to cry anymore. He has promised himself not to cry after the funeral. He is tired of feeling sad and crying until his pillow becoming damp. However, the sudden realization that his father is dead leaving an empty feeling in his heart.

A tear finally escapes from the corner of his eye. He quickly wipes the tears away with his hand harshly, accidentally nudging a cordless mouse on the table. It makes the blank screen on his father’s computer turns on, revealing a browser on the screen.

The day when his father died, he died alone in his study. Myungho just came back from college and found that his father had already lying on the floor. He quickly called an ambulance first and then his mother who was still working at her office at that time. It was too late though. The doctor said that his father died in his study around noon of a sudden heart attack.

Since then, neither Myungho nor his mother entered the room, therefore no wonder the computer on the desk is still turned on and untouched for a week straight. Myungho then puts a trash bag in his hands on the floor and sits in front of the computer. He believes that his mother wants to get rid of this computer too, so Myungho decides to turn the computer off. His hand touches the cordless mouse and he closes several browser tabs. His finger stops clicking the mouse when he sees his father’s inbox email page.

At first, he doesn’t mean to intrude on his father’s personal matter, but his eyes find one, _no_ , two, three, five, ten, twenty, and more emails from the same person in a row. He cannot hold his curiosity to open one of the messages.

He reads it and for a couple of seconds, he forgets how to breathe.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Myungho is 19 and Mingyu is nine years older.

Kim Mingyu is everything that Myungho doesn’t expect him to be.

Myungho must admit that Mingyu looks beautiful in pictures he has seen on the Internet, but seeing him in the flesh is another whole level. Mingyu looks extremely gorgeous in person.

Mingyu’s sheen black hair looks so dark and lustrous, completing his sun-kissed skin that glows perfectly under the dim lights of the restaurant. With chiseled jaw, long legs and broad shoulders, he has a right to be called masculine. However, aside from those features, he also has feminine characteristics on him, such as a slim body, diamond-shaped lips, and a pair of large, beautiful dark eyes like a starless night sky. His full appearance shows as if the man was created by God to be loved by men and women. And the more Myungho takes a closer look at the man, the more he knows why his father stupidly fell in love with him.

That idiot, Myungho screams in his head when he remembers how he loved his father so much, _too much_ , and it breaks his heart knowing the fact that after all this time, even after his death, his father kept a hideous secret from him.

That secret is that his father had an illicit affair with Kim Mingyu, one of the most prominent book authors in South Korea. All of his books are best sellers because they offer a sense of joy and give people characters that they relate and want to care about. Besides being hailed as one of the best Korean book authors of this decade, he also possesses ethereal beauty and a youthful image, making him garner more attention compared to other regular book authors. He is popular and he is often invited to talk shows to increase the program’s rating. People adore Mingyu because of his works and beloved charm. The notion disgusts Myungho, especially after he knows about Mingyu’s true colors.

Mingyu’s eyes survey the faces inside the restaurant and it doesn’t take a long time for their eyes to meet. He then walks closer to his table without breaking eye contact. He puts his hand on the edge of the table. 

“You are Myungho?”

Meeting the son of a man he had an affair with, Mingyu doesn't look nervous or bothered at all. On the contrary, he looks nonchalant, a little bit annoyed and impatient, and sits on a chair opposite Myungho.

"Why did you pick this old, hidden restaurant?” Mingyu asks, "It took me forever to find this place."

The restaurant, which serves Hakka cuisine, is located in a kind of cul-de-sac. People often find difficulty in finding this place, but regulars know the location of the restaurant like the back of their hands. However, Mingyu is not a regular customer. It must be hard for him to find the place, it is apparent from his annoyed face and a layer of sweat on his forehead. He must be exhausted from walking for miles and asking people around to find the restaurant. Knowing the fact, Myungho feels satisfied for torturing Mingyu for a little bit.

“Not many people know this restaurant. We can have privacy here,” Myungho says.

Mingyu huffs and raises his hand to call a nearby waitress. He looks on the menu and orders a glass of cold beer and Wong San Fumak, fried eel meat with gai lan and Hakka special sauce made with a fermented black tapai. Myungho orders a glass of warm tea and a bowl of Mun Kiaw Mien noodles. It doesn’t take a long time for their orders to arrive. They eat and drink in strangely comfortable silence.

"What do you want to ask?”

Mingyu opens a conversation after they finish with their food.

“What do I want to ask?” Myungho reiterates.

Mingyu nods, “You said in the email that you wanted to meet me to ask about my relationship with your father. If I refuse, you will leak all of the emails to the press.”

Myungho has read all of the emails from Mingyu to his father. The secret appointments, the sweet talks, the flirts, the talks about their sex. Everything.

He is terribly angry.

“Do you feel threatened?” Myungho asks, raising one eyebrow.

“Not really,” Mingyu answers unbothered, “If my career is ruined because of those emails, I can find another job. Writing is not my favorite activity anyway.”

“What kind of job is on your mind?”

Mingyu shrugs, “I don’t know? Nude model? The money is pretty good.”

“Yeah, it is a good job for a slut like you.”

Myungho tries to provoke Mingyu, but he doesn’t seem interested in taking the bait. He just sighs, putting both of his hands on the table and leaning closer to Myungho. His body smells disgustingly good; it's a mix between vanilla and tobacco.

“Let’s get back to my question. To make this interesting, how about we make it a game? Ask me questions about me and your father and I will give you honest answers. But in return, I will also ask you questions about Wonwoo and you must give me genuine answers."

Myungho’s father’s name slips easily from Mingyu’s lips. He calls his father with his given name and without an honorific as if they were so close and intimate that their age gap didn’t matter. Myungho suddenly feels unexplainable jealousy. He had been living with his father for 19 years, yet the way Mingyu calls his father’s name makes him think that he was a stranger in his father’s eye.

Myungho takes a moment to blink his eyes, giving a long stare at Mingyu before bending his body closer and gives Mingyu a look.

"No bullshit?" Myungho asks.

"No bullshit," Mingyu solemnly answers.

"Deal,” Myungho doesn’t think twice to agree with Mingyu’s game. If he has to play the game to get the real answers, so be it.

“Good,” Mingyu pulls his body back. He is now leaning on his chair, both arms are folded against his chest, “I ask you the question first. Does your mother know about my relationship with Wonwoo?”

Myungho shakes his head, “She is the busiest person I have known in my life and she was gullible enough to let my father do anything as he wished as long as he cleaned the house and be a good, supportive father to his son.”

Myungho remembers how his mother always comes home late and doesn’t have spare time to spend with him. She is an ignorant, but accommodating mother. She never patronizes him and basically allows him to do what he wants. If not because of his father, he would be a delinquent by now.

Mingyu nods. He then points to Myungho with his chin, “Your turn.”

Myungho decides to ask a basic question, “Did you sleep with my father? If you did, then why?”

Mingyu rolls his eyes at the question, “Do you have to ask me that stupid question?”

“An agreement is an agreement."

Mingyu sighs and gives Myungho a look.

"Yes, I slept with Wonwoo for almost five years.”

Mingyu spills the fact without any sense of guilt or remorse. His attitude supposedly makes Myungho furious, but somehow he calmly accepts the ugly truth.

"Also," Mingyu adds, "At first, I didn't have specific reasons why I wanted to date Wonwoo. Perhaps because I thanked him for accepting my manuscripts, editing, and publishing them. Without him, maybe I would still be the poor, pathetic Mingyu who sits alone at a restaurant and only orders a glass of mineral water.”

Mingyu mulls something over before continuing, “I thought that our relationship won’t last for three months, but then I had grown very fond of him. I couldn’t really understand why I felt that way, but I think it was his personality. He was gentle and kind and brilliant, and it dawned on me that I actually really loved him.”

“Don’t over-romanticize it. You were just two horny people who met under the same circumstance,” Myungho scoffs.

“What a response from a virgin," Mingyu retorts. He sounds angry.

Myungho feels annoyed, “I am not a virgin.”

“Yeah? But your response tells me otherwise. Even if you have a partner, you don’t really love them. In fact, you have never been in love, Myungho, and that makes you stupid enough to respond to my answer like that.”

“I know that my father _loved_ mom,” Myungho says persistently.

“He didn’t love you or your mom.”

Myungho freezes, “What did you say?”

Mingyu smiles at Myungho, “Let me tell you a secret. Do you know why Wonwoo kept our relationship for almost five years?”

Myungho is too surprised to move or yell at the man. He is not ready for the ugly truth but he is beaten by his own curiosity.

Mingyu looks deep into Myungho eyes, his lips form a playful smirk.

“It’s because he hated you both. He wished he didn’t marry your annoying, nagging mother. He wished he didn’t have a spoiled child like you. He only wanted me. He only loved _me_. He never loved you, Myungho. He even wished that you never existed.”

The last sentence has made Myungho lose his composure. He rises from his seat and punches Mingyu’s face hard. The man falls on the floor. There is a bloody cut on Mingyu’s lower lip. People’s attention is on them, but Myungho cannot care less.

Mingyu scowls. He doesn’t waste any time snatching Myungho’s ankle and pulls it harshly, making Myungho trips to the floor. Mingyu then crawls and sits on top of Myungho’s body and brings a fist to the younger’s face. Myungho fights back. He punches Mingyu’s stomach hard and when his body tumbles, it is him now who is on top of Mingyu. Myungho is not satisfied to punch Mingyu’s face yet when some adults finally separate them. The owner of the restaurant kicks them out for creating such a ruckus.

They end up sitting side by side on a quiet sidewalk. Mingyu calmly smokes his cigarette while Myungho hisses in pain when he accidentally touches a cut on his cheekbone.

"You are skinny but strong," Mingyu admits.

"I learned kung fu and wushu when I was five."

"Gee," Mingyu chuckles lightly, "so you were a prodigy back then."

"You are a hard puncher too," Myungho spits blood from his mouth, "my cheek still hurts."

"Sorry, I didn't mean to say that Wonwoo didn't love you and your mom. I just made it up because I was upset."

Myungho is secretly impressed with Mingyu's honesty. He doesn't try to defend himself and blame Myungho for provoking him. He suddenly looks at Mingyu in a different light.

“Are we still playing the game?” Mingyu asks without looking at Myungho.

Myungho looks at Mingyu’s side profile, noting how tonight's street lights and a cloud of translucent gray cigarette smoke coming out of his lips beautify his gorgeous face even more.

“Yes,” Myungho says.

“Do you blame me for having an affair with Wonwoo?”

“No, I don’t blame you,” Myungho answers, “I know you were at fault, but it was a consensual agreement between the two of you, so you were not at total fault here. I cannot deny that he was an asshole, but he is already dead and I cannot do anything to punish him.”

“That asshole died too quick,” Mingyu mumbles, “and it’s an easy, painless death. It’s not fair.”

“Yeah? Do you expect him to experience a painful death?”

“I do. If I had a chance, I would have killed him with my own hands.”

“Then, how do you want my father to die?”

Mingyu turns his head towards Myungho and raises his hand, “First, I would have broken his fingers. I want to hear him scream in pain and agony before I break his other fingers.”

“That’s fair.”

Mingyu jokingly continues, “After that, I would have dragged him to the top of a cliff. He would have begged while crying, trying to put a conscience in me not to throw him, but I was determined. Then I would have thrown his body and laughed when his body plunged into the sea."

Mingyu chuckles, but then his laughter has simply evaporated. His expression slowly changes, from upbeat to somber so quick. He looks like some kind of machine that has been humming along until someone pulls the plug. His eyes appear glassy as if covered by a thin, translucent membrane.

His mouth suddenly clamps shut. He then whips his head away from Myungho and takes a drag on the cigarette, trying his hardest to conceal a tear that shamelessly escapes from the corner of his eye.

Myungho feels he doesn’t have any right to say or do anything. He decides to look at the starless sky above him, trying his best to hold back his tears when he acknowledges that they love Wonwoo too much and are still not ready to let him go.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unbeta'd
> 
> Sorry, it took a while to update. I tried to find inspiration, from listening to Mitski's songs to rereading Haruki Murakami's novels (lol why am I so worked up?)
> 
> Also, I don't know whether I rush or drag in writing this story, sometimes I felt okay with the result but in the next minutes I wanted to change the plot into a totally different one. Anyway, I hope you like this chapter, and feedback is always appreciated :)

It has been six months since Wonwoo's funeral.

Myungho and Mingyu have somewhat been growing closer. It is not that they suddenly become best friends, but they do not throw punches just like they did the first time they met. They have this strange strong connection that despite they hate each other they keep in contact and meet on random occasions. Myungho still doesn’t completely like Mingyu and so does Mingyu, so they do not talk about their personal matters, but they are comfortable enough to talk about random things that have happened in their lives, mostly about Mingyu’s work or Myungho’s college assignments. 

The most intimate thing that they share together is things about Wonwoo.

Myungho and Mingyu have this habit of exchanging stories about Wonwoo every time they meet. Myungho will tell Mingyu about what his father did in detail when Mingyu was not around. In return, Mingyu will tell Myungho about his days with Wonwoo when Myungho was not there to witness it. Each story that they share together has led them to know more about Wonwoo better. 

They meet when their schedule fits. Myungho is always the one who picks a place to meet up, from a hipster coffee shop to a _pojangmacha_ near a station. Myungho always arrives first, but he chooses to wait for Mingyu as the latter man never arrives more than seven minutes from the appointment.

Mingyu usually arrives and in a matter of seconds finds Myungho among the crowd. He has this peculiar ability to find Myungho amidst many people. He then walks towards their table and sits on his chair without saying any word, not even apologizing for arriving late, and orders a meal. Myungho doesn't mind though. When the food arrives, they usually eat together in a comfortable silence as if they are complete strangers who share a table. They start to talk when they finish eating.

One day, Myungho chooses a random Japanese food stall, a place for their next appointment. He suddenly wants to eat yakitori. As usual, Mingyu is late. When he arrives, he sits beside Myungho and orders takoyaki. They start the conversation after they eat all the food.

"I have a writer's block," Mingyu says somberly.

"It's all in your head."

"And the deadline is approaching. I am dead," Mingyu says, ignoring Myungho's remark, “And my new editor, that Jihoon bastard, asked me to rewrite my manuscript. Can you believe it? I swear he is so tiny, like a hobbit. If I could, I would kick him out of the window.”

"You are a brilliant writer. You'll be fine."

"I need cigarettes."

"Will they help?" Myungho asks.

Mingyu thinks for a moment, then nods, "Yeah, totally."

Mingyu then pulls out a pack of red Marlboros from his jacket pocket. He pulls one cigarette with his mouth and lits the tip of the cancer stick with fire from his match. Wisps of silver-grey smoke curls and dances their way through the thick, hazy air. Myungho doesn't know that someone can look so alluring when they smoke.

"Do you want one?"

Mingyu offers an open cigarette pack towards Myungho. The latter doesn't say anything.

Mingyu chuckles, "Come on, don't tell me you haven't smoked before."

Myungho doesn't smoke but he doesn't like it when someone underestimates him. Instead of picking a new cigarette, he lifts his hand and takes a cigarette hanging between Mingyu's lips with his index and middle finger and puts it between his lips. Mingyu's eyes follow Myungho's fingers and they end on Myungho's lips.

Myungho takes a drag of a cigarette and immediately begins coughing. His throat suddenly feels dry and his chest starts to hurt. Mingyu laughs but then he offers his warm tea which Myungho takes and hastily drinks.

"Aren't you something?" Mingyu smirks. He takes the cigarette that Myunho inhaled earlier from his fingers and slips it back between his lips.

"Shut up," Myungho mutters. He feels embarrassed, acting like a child, and he will feel more ashamed if Mingyu sees how red his face is.

Mingyu giggles. He takes a long, tasteful drag of smoke before blowing it. His eyes are still on Myungho with an amused gaze.

"That was _awful_ ," Myungho puts emphasis on the last word. "My father never smoked before. Did he allow you to smoke when you were together?"

Mingyu takes a deep last drag and exhales the smoke into the air, watching it disappear then stubs the cigarette in the ashtray.

"He wanted me to quit though, but he decided not to tell me because he knew I needed to smoke to think."

Myungho knows Mingyu tells him the truth.

His father is a pushover. He would never disagree with someone he cared for. Myungho remembers when he was in high school, his father didn’t scold him when he skipped school. He gave Myungho a sincere smile and told him that it was totally okay to skip school sometimes. He never skipped school again.

Myungho looks at his watch as if suddenly remembering something.

“I should go. The last bus will arrive in ten minutes.”

Mingyu frowns, “Right now?”

“Yes, or else I won’t be able to go home tonight.”

Mingyu sneers, “Your mother doesn’t even care whether you are at home or not, does she?”

Myungho curves his lips and thinks for a while.

Mingyu is right though, his mother doesn’t pay attention to him anymore. He feels that their relationship is not between a mother and a son, but more like awkward roommates. When Myungho wakes up, his mother has already gone to work and she doesn’t make breakfast for him so Myungho always cooks and eats on his own.

Myungho’s mother is rarely at home too. She always texts Myungho that she has these meetings or parties there and there. He suspects his mother has sexual encounters with random people she met at nightclubs or maybe her colleagues at work. He once found his mother sleeping on their sofa in the living room smelling like booze and man’s cologne.

“Probably,” Myungho lies. He doesn’t want to prove Mingyu’s point only to see the older man smirking even wider and saying _I_ _told you so_ in front of his face.

“What’s your bus number?”

“905.”

Mingyu looks at his watch, “The last bus departed twenty minutes ago. Didn’t you read the schedule?”

“I did,” Myungho protests, fishes out his phone from his pants pocket, and looks at the bus schedule once again.

"Shit," Myungho curses.

"What?"

"I read an outdated bus schedule. You're right. The last bus departed twenty minutes ago."

Mingyu bites his lower lip, an unconscious habit of him when he is deliberating.

“Do you want to stay over at my house?” Mingyu suggests.

Myungho doesn't respond. It is the first time Mingyu offers him to stay over. Does Mingyu realize that inviting him to his house means that Myungho will infiltrate Mingyu’s personal life? Myungho looks hesitant and Mingyu gets the hint.

“I won’t have sex with you, if that’s what you are thinking," Mingyu blurts out.

"I am not thinking of _that_ ,” Myungho answers curtly.

"Okay, but do you want to stay over at my house?”

Myungho considers booking a taxi.

“I will not ask for the third time.”

Myungho says yes without thinking further.  
  


At first, Myungho thought that Mingyu’s house would be modern and so big, too big for a single man to live alone. It has a swimming pool, an obnoxious spacious yard, and a golden retriever inside his house, wiggling its tail once it recognizes its owner coming home.

Turns out, his house is an old, small house with gloomy-looking exteriors. Judging from the age and style of the building, the house has been spared the Korean war. Myungho's eyes explore the neighborhood, only to find a few similar old houses standing at some distance from one another. It is indeed a private and quiet neighborhood, a perfect place for an author like Mingyu to find inspiration and write.

“You have a lot of money yet you bought this old house?” Myungho asks.

“I like old houses. It feels nostalgic and homey."

Mingyu opens the main door and goes inside, Myungho follows behind.

The house is pitch black inside, but Mingyu doesn’t bother to turn on the main lights. Instead, he only turns on a small yellow lamp with a dim light in the living room then opens a white transparent sheer curtain, letting natural light from the sky seep through big sliding glass doors overlooking a small garden. Mingyu slightly opens the glass door for better air circulation, making the sound of night crickets enlivens the quiet house like crazy natural music.

The interior inside the house is not that different from the outside. The furniture looks minimalist and old, but all of them are surprisingly in good condition. The house looks clean and spacious because there is only essential furniture there. The kitchen is the only part of the house that has been refurbished. Myungho can see that the white ceramic wall tiles are new and glossy and the cooking appliances, as well as cabinets, sink, and faucet, look sophisticated. Myungho thinks the kitchen must be Mingyu's favorite room.

Mingyu walks past Myungho to his bedroom and comes back with a white towel, a T-shirt, and sweatpants.

“The bathroom is the second door to your right."

Myungho takes the towel and the clothes.

"How about you?"

"I can take a shower in another bathroom."

Myungho nods. Taking a hot, relaxing shower is what he really needs right now because today's emperature is so cold and his body is shivering. He washes his hair and body with Mingyu's soap and shampoo that have a faint smell of vanilla. When he finishes, Myungho finds Mingyu in a kitchen, preparing a glass of hot tea, his back on Myungho. He notices that Mingyu’s body is very slender and his waist is relatively narrow compared to most men as if the whole parts of his body grow except his waist.

Mingyu glances in Myungho’s direction and giggles.

“What’s so funny?”

“You should see yourself in the mirror,” Mingyu gazes at a mirror in the living room.

Myungho takes a glance and looks at his body looking smaller and skinnier under Mingyu’s oversize T-shirt. Mingyu’s sweatpants fit around his waist, but it’s too baggy in the calves.

“I look stupid,” Myungho huffs.

Mingyu titters, “Sorry, I don’t have clothes that fit you.”

Myungho wants to protest, but the way Mingyu laughs makes him somewhat forgive him. He silently admits that Mingyu looks even more handsome when he smiles or laughs. He is puzzled why a totally attractive man like Mingyu can be more gorgeous when doing simple expressions on his face.

“That’s okay. At least it’s comfortable,” he simply says.

“Have a seat while I finish this,” says Mingyu with a glance in Myungho's direction while preparing the tea. His dark hair is still wet from the shower.

Myungho complies. On the coffee table, there are books, a stack of paper, a small bowl where Mingyu puts his door keys and coins, and a small white ashtray.

Before long, Mingyu joins Myungho on the sofa and puts the tea on the table. A can of cold grass jelly drink in his hand. They gulp their beverages in silence.

"What was Wonwoo's favorite drink?" Mingyu asks out of the blue after some time has gone by. "He never complained when I served him tea or coffee or guava juice. It's a good thing that he wasn't picky, though I prefer to know what he liked."

"He loved grapefruit juice," Myungho says while sipping his tea.

"He did?" Mingyu says in surprise. "I never served him a grapefruit juice. Now I am sad."

"How about food? Did you ever cook him his favorite food?"

"What's his favorite food?"

"Ramen and chicken salad."

Mingyu mulls over the various foods he ever cooked for Wonwoo.

“I once made him a homemade pork ramen, but never chicken salad.”

“That's too bad,” Myungho says, “but at least you cooked one of his favorite meals.”

"But still,” Mingyu sighs, “So many things that I wish I could do for him."

"For example?"

"For instance, I wish I was there to accompany him when he was dying."

"How did you know that he died alone in his study?"

"I read it in the newspaper. Other authors and editors were talking a lot about Wonwoo's death too."

They are drowned in deep silence. Mingyu puts his empty can on the table. He raises his feet to the edge of the sofa and rests his chin on his knees. He stares blankly at a white spotless wall in front of him. 

"I wish I could go to his funeral too, saying my last farewell, perhaps kissing his lips for the last time, but I chose not to because I didn’t want to acknowledge that he’s dead. I am such a coward. Now I regret my decision. I thought it would be better to not watch his dead body, but now I feel miserable. Every day is like the worst day of my life. Everything’s falling apart and worthless. I always try to think about our happy times, to make myself less guilty with my decision, but I am unable to remember what it feels like to feel the warmth of an emotional connection with him. I really agonize over this feeling. I feel lost. It feels as if I am in endless darkness with a faint glow in the distance. No matter how hard I try stretching out in that darkness many times, my fingers touch nothing. The light is beyond my grasp."

Myungho feels stupid for just sitting still while watching Mingyu pouring his heart out, but he feels that Mingyu doesn’t want to be hugged or be comforted. He just wants someone to listen to him, so he waits in his seat until Mingyu is willing to talk again.

“Do I look pathetic?” Mingyu raises his head and looks right at Myungho.

“No.”

“Do you pity me?”

Myungho shakes his head.

“I need to tell you something. Would you like to hear it?”

Mingyu sits closer to Myungho. Their little fingers brush on the surface of the sofa. Such a simple and gentle movement sends a weird feeling in his chest. It is not precisely delightful nor unpleasant. The way Mingyu looks at him is not that helping either. His eyes rest on Myungho, not unblinking but slowed; yet the effect is so soft and inviting. His lips form a small, half-hearted smile as if his heart is not ready to let go of his misery. Slowly, but confidently, Mingyu lightly brushes Myungho’s strands of black hair and rests his hand on the back of his neck. Mingyu’s hand is so soft and warm and his touch is so gentle but somehow it feels distant and loveless.

“I don’t think I can confidently say that I love you, but one thing for sure is that I feel comfortable around you. Perhaps I am being selfish, but I need you near me so that I know that everything is going to be alright, that I can believe that I am capable of feeling emotions except pain and loss. Does all of these make sense to you?”

Myungho nods so that Mingyu knows that he fully understands what Mingyu wants from him. Mingyu wants him to always be there for him. Mingyu wants him to comfort him when he needs him to. Mingyu needs a body to hug. Mingyu needs someone to kiss. But Mingyu doesn’t want to invest his feelings for Myungho. He doesn’t care for Myungho, he just wants to use him and he is very bluntly and shamelessly honest with it.

“Is it too much to ask?” Mingyu asks again when Myungho doesn't respond.

Myungho looks at Mingyu’s eyes, trying to find the meaning behind that gentle but bitter stare that unconsciously takes Myungho’s breath away. When did Myungho start to have a feeling for Mingyu? Did it begin when Mingyu laughed at him for wearing his clothes? Or when he offered him a cigarette back then at the food stall? Or was it because of the way he always finds him among the crowd in a matter of seconds? Myungho doesn’t know the answer. But one thing for sure: There is no him in Mingyu’s eyes.

Myungho cups Mingyu’s face with his hands. He can feel the warmness on Mingyu’s smooth cheeks on his palms. Mingyu sighs in pleasure and his eyes flutter closed when Myungho presses his lips into his.

“Not at all,” Myungho says. And he truly means it.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was in the writing mode today so instead of finishing my tasks I finished this chapter in four hours while trying to avoid AOT spoilers on my Twitter timeline I am doomed.
> 
> Anyway, this is my first time writing an adult scene, so please be nice to me I truly did my best 👉👈
> 
> As usual, unbeta'd.

Myungho has been regularly visiting Mingyu's house since that day. It becomes a routine for him and he feels fine with his new routine.

Myungho usually comes to Mingyu's house after class or on weekends. By the time Myungho comes, Mingyu usually has not arrived at home yet, so Myungho does what he can to kill time, from reading Mingyu's magazine collection to laying lazily on the porch while listening to music from his phone.

One day Myungho enters Mingyu’s house using a spare key that the older man gave him. Unsurprisingly, Mingyu is not home yet. He just finished his class and took a train to Mingyu’s house. From the nearest station, he has to take a walk for around twenty minutes before reaching the destination.

Today’s weather is so hot and he can feel his shirt is sticking onto his back due to excessive sweating. Mingyu once told him that he can do anything he wants inside his house when he is not there, so that includes taking a shower in a bathroom. Myungho then gets undressed, showers, and washes his hair. He finds a Tatsuro Yamashita record in a bookcase and is listening to it while drying his hair.

By evening, when Myungho is listening to Tatsuro’s songs while reading one of Mingyu’s books, he hears the main door open. He turns off the record player, gets up from the sofa, and walks toward the main door, only to see Mingyu arrive with two grocery bags in his hands. Myungho takes one of the bags from Mingyu’s hands and walks toward the kitchen. Mingyu follows behind him. He then puts the bag in his hand on the kitchen counter and starts to sort the groceries in a careful manner.

“What’s for today’s dinner?” Myungho asks. It has become a routine for Mingyu to cook him a meal every time he visits Mingyu’s house. It is Mingyu’s idea, saying that it has been a long time since he cooks for someone and he is missing that habit. He is also afraid that his cooking skills will get rusty. Myungho doesn’t mind. He loves the idea because he also misses eating someone’s cooking.

“Tom Yum Goong. Do you like it?” Mingyu answer while putting eggs and produce in the refrigerator.

Myungho nods, “I do like seafood.”

“That's a relief. Can you help me clean these shrimps while I am preparing for the ingredients?” He then hands him a plastic bag full of medium-sized shrimp without looking at Myungho, eyes glued to a lemongrass stock and galangal in his other hand.

Myungho silently obeys. He washes the shrimp in the sink while looking at Mingyu preparing food for their dinner. He works with quick, nimble movements, handling three cooking procedures at once. He takes a saucepan from a cabinet, fills it up with water, and puts it on a stovetop. The next second he is at a cutting board, chopping ingredients then he takes a package of rice noodles out of the refrigerator and puts all of the content inside boiling water.

“I am done,” Myungho says while handing him a bowl of clean shrimps.

“You didn’t take off the shell and the head, did you?” Mingyu asks, still not looking in Myungho’s direction.

“No. You didn’t tell me to.”

“Good,” Mingyu turns his head at him, giving a quick, but genuine smile on him, then his gaze is back to his saucepan.

Mingyu looks so handsome when he smiles. 

"What should I do next?" Myungho offers.

"No, that's all."

"Are you sure?"

"Positive."

Myungho gives in. He sits at the dinner table, scrolling through his phone, eating rice crackers while waiting for Mingyu to finish cooking. 

Mingyu's cooking tastes exceptionally amazing as always, although Mingyu warns him beforehand that he rarely cooks Tom Yum Goong. The assortment of shrimps, kaffir lime leaves, lemongrass, galangal, chilies, fish sauce, and oyster mushroom are perfectly balanced and compliment each other. Myungho never eats Tom Yum before, because his father disliked and never cooked seafood. He feels his mouth waters each time he munches and swallows the food.

“It was nice seeing you enjoyed my homemade cooking,” Mingyu says after he finishes eating. His eyes twinkle in delight.

“Your Tom Yum tasted amazing, I am not lying.”

Mingyu leans his head on his hand, a can of beer in his hand.

“I once tried to cook Tom Yum Goong for Wonwoo. He didn’t like it at all. He even spitted it out in front of me. I thought he had a shellfish allergy, but it turned out he just didn’t like it. I felt offended.”

“Did you ask beforehand that you were going to cook Tom Yum Goong?”

“No, that’s why I couldn’t really be mad at him. He didn’t want to offend me, so he tried to eat the dish, but he hated it so much he couldn’t swallow it.”

“I bet he felt very guilty afterward.”

Mingyu stands up from his chair and collects up cutlery, glassware, and serving dishes from the table, “Yes, the next day, he bought me a kitchen knife set and I couldn’t even be happier.”

Myungho helps Mingyu wash the dishes. Standing next to him, Myungho wipes as he washes, and he piles the things on the counter. What they are doing now, whatever it is, somehow feels peaceful and domestic.

Myungho puts the last plate in a wall cabinet when his arm accidentally brushes Mingyu’s hair. Mingyu turns his head and realizes their proximity. He then puts his hand on the back of Myungho’s neck and kisses his lips. Mingyu’s fingers are still wet from washing the dishes, leaving a cool sensation on Myungho’s neck, making him shiver in delight.

"What was that for? A token of appreciation for helping you cleaning shrimp?" Myungho says half-jokingly when Mingyu pulls away.

The other man smiles but doesn’t say anything. He pushes and lifts Myungho’s body on the countertop. He studies Myungho’s face with his eyes. Mingyu’s pupils are so dark like a splash of Chinese ink. He then leans closer and kisses Myungho’s lips again, this time he takes time to really taste Myungho’s full lips in the gentlest way possible. It is like a sweet dream and a nightmare at the same time. The way Mingyu kisses him with tenderness feels too real, too good to be true, Myungho is so afraid that the delicate act is the beginning of his doom.

“It hurts, doesn't it?” Mingyu asks when he carefully squeezes Myungho’s erection. The bulge is hard and hot in Mingyu's hand.

“Yes, it does.”

“Do you want me to suck you off?”

Myungho nods.

“Okay,” Mingyu says with a nice smile.

With Myungho’s permission, he unzips Myungho’s pants and puts Myungho’s stiff penis in his mouth. Mingyu is amazingly good at giving head. He goes slow, letting Myungho relax and enjoy the pleasure without thinking too much. Mingyu’s hair smells so nice it makes Myungho’s head go light.

Myungho begins to wonder if Mingyu often gave head to his father at that exact place as he is sitting right now. Who was the one who usually gave head? Was it Mingyu? Or was it his father? Did they take turns giving head equally? Mingyu’s technique is so good Myungho thinks perhaps he was the one who gave head the most. He starts to imagine watching those two doing the sex act, how his father sits on the countertop, whispering praises to Mingyu who is on his knees, and Mingyu absorbs every compliment from his father by flicking his frenulum with his hot, thick tongue. 

When he finally ejaculates inside Mingyu’s mouth, he spits Myungho’s semen in his mouth to the sink. He washes his mouth before looking at Myungho again.

“Sorry, I am not a fan of swallowing man’s semen.”

“Why?”

“It tastes awful. I don't intend to insult you. Every man's semen tastes awful."

"What does semen taste like?"

"It tastes like you take some cheap hotel shampoo and dump an insane amount of salt in it.”

“That's gross. Why didn't you tell me beforehand that you don’t like to swallow? If I had known about the issue earlier, I would have warned you.”

“No, Although I don't like to swallow semen, I like when someone’s penis gets harder and larger inside my mouth at the exact moment before they come."

“That’s weird.”

Mingyu titters. He kisses Myungho’s lips once again before zipping up Myungho’s pants and buttons them.

“I like your penis size. It’s precise, not too big and not too small.”

“Thanks. I hope I can see yours too.”

“Perhaps later.”

Mingyu then gives him one last smile before going to the porch and smoking. He can hear Mingyu humming Chet Baker’s _I Fall in Love Too Easily_ from the kitchen. Mingyu doesn’t offer Myungho to sit beside him.

Myungho has a routine to go swimming at his college indoor swimming pool three times per month. He always goes swimming in the afternoon until the closing time because during the period not many students swim there. Swimming, for him, is not a mere exercise, but a moment for him to clear his head from all of the excessive thoughts. 

He swims several lengths of the fifty-meter pool and sits at a poolside when he is tired, legs dangling into the pool, when someone calls his name.

“Myungho, right?”

Myungho turns his head to the source of the sound and finds a man floating with his head above the water surface near him, arms and legs moving up and down underwater to keep him afloat. He has never met this man before, yet he knows Myungho’s name. They must have met before, but Myungho doesn’t remember when and where.

“Yes. And you are?”

The man smiles wide. It is the most gorgeous, generous, sincere smile Myungho has ever seen on someone. His black hair slicked back by water. He has a nice forehead.

“I am Seokmin. I have been seeing you swimming here and my friends told me about you and your name. Sorry, do I sound like a stalker to you?”

Myungho shakes her head, “No, you don't. And I appreciate your profound interest in me.”

Seokmin laughs. Water droplets hang dangerously at the tip of his eyelashes. His eyes look clear and sparkling, like a clear morning sky after heavy midnight rain, despite prior swimming in chlorine-added pool water.

“I have started to regularly swim here and I want to find a new friend who shares the same interest in swimming. Do you know what I love most about swimming? It is a very relaxing exercise, more relaxing than jogging in the morning at a park, in my opinion. I also like the sensation when I float in the water. It feels like I am in a totally different environment, a different world. Do you get what I am saying?”

Myungho nods.

“I have an interesting story behind the reason why I started swimming regularly for the past two months. One day, I visited my parents’ house and they showed me pictures of me when I was a child. One of the pictures was of me and my parents and my big sister during summer vacation. I was four in that picture. By the way, I was shocked when I saw that particular picture because I wore a mermaid costume. Can you imagine? It was a pink, sparkling mermaid costume. Before I protested, they began to explain to me the story behind all of that disaster. So, my parents told me that when I was at that age, I confessed to them that I was a reincarnation of a mermaid. _A freaking mermaid!_ Of course, my parents teased me and made fun of me. I insisted that in my past life, I was a mermaid and it made them want to tease and make fun of me more. One day, my family planned a trip to a beach for a summer holiday and they had this nasty idea to buy me a mermaid costume. Guess what? I was so thrilled! I put it on and wore it at the beach with pride like scout badges. My parents laughed at me and said, 'This will go down in our family history'. Can you believe that? My parents were such a tease!"

For the first time on that day, Myungho lets out a real laugh.

“I felt so embarrassed, but then I realized that perhaps what I said was true, that I am the reincarnation of a mermaid and water is the only thing that keeps me happy and alive. I loved to play at a waterpark with my friends when I was a kid. I also always proposed to my parents to go to a beach every time we planned our vacation. Recently, I started to swim again and I often go to the beach as well. I never feel deliberated and happy when I am floating or diving in the water. Hey, would you remind me if I talk too much?"

Myungho smiles while shaking his head. “That's okay. I like hearing you ridicule yourself. So, in a nutshell, you are now trying to live out your best mermaid fantasies?”

Seokmin smiles shyly, “You could say that.”

Seokmin swims to the side of the pool and lifts his body by his arms, biceps bulging with effort, and gets out of the water. He sits beside Myungho, legs making up and down movement in the water.

“What about you? What do you like about swimming?” He asks Myungho a question with genuine interest. 

“I like swimming because it stops me from thinking. Also, I don’t sweat when I am swimming. I can take shower after I finish and I like it when I smell nice and feel refreshed after working out. I don't like working out at the gym. It is literally a room full of sweaty people."

“That’s true. There is also another reason why I don’t go to the gym. It is full of selfish people who don’t want to share equipment with others. They are the worst human beings.”

“You got my point.”

Seokmin smiles a lot. He keeps smiling when he chatters or when he listens to Myungho’s talking. He looks so approachable, friendly, and nice. Too approachable, too friendly, and too nice, like a tamed dog that suddenly runs to you when you jog at a park, circling around your feet with its tail wiggling enthusiastically, asking for a pat on the head or belly rubs.

“What do you usually do after swimming?” Seokmin asks. 

Myungho usually visits Mingyu’s house, talking about random and trivial things, and ends up staying over. However, somehow he doesn’t want to tell Seokmin about it, perhaps because he wants to do something different with Seokmin today. After all, he wants to meet a new face.

“Nothing particularly interesting. I sometimes just go straight home or grab a light dinner nearby.”

“Are you in the mood for eating? I know a restaurant with great food. The owner knows me so I always get a discount there.”

“Sounds good.”

Myungho hears a bunch of men calling Seokmin's name. Seokmin waves his hand and says that he will join them soon. Seokmin's friends look nice and friendly.

“Awesome. See you at the entrance in thirty minutes.” Seokmin dips his body in water and swims toward his friends on the other side of the pool.

The next hour, Myungho sits opposite Seokmin at a small, casual Belgian bistro that serves the most amazing grilled chicken he has ever tasted. Seokmin munches his potato wedges, giggling at Myungho’s big appetite. He asks Myungho how to stay slim despite eating like a horse. Myungho doesn’t know exactly the reason, perhaps it is genetic. Seokmin huffs and mumbles something about God being so unfair. Myungho silently disagrees with Seokmin. He might not be thin, but his body is perfect in terms of size and height.

Seokmin is a very talkative person, speaking in a clear, strong voice, but he is also very attentive and selfless. He is aware when Myungho doesn’t talk much, so he asks Myungho about anything and listens to him talking with intense interest. He looks at Myungho straight in the eye, making Myungho feels that what he is saying is important and it encourages Myungho to talk more. In the end, Myungho is the one who does most of the talking. It is the first time for Myungho to talk this much. He is a taciturn person who doesn’t share too much opinion with others and prefers to keep it inside his mind, but Seokmin instantly changes him into a different person.

The dim light from a candle at the center of the table casts a shadow on Seokmin’s face. It makes Myungho appreciate Seokmin’s facial features more. His face looks so soft, ridiculously soft, especially his eyes and his lips. A small mole on his cheek is like a perfect spot for someone to put a gentle, innocent kiss. Myungho looks at Seokmin’s hands. His hands are big, but his fingers are bony. There are calluses on Seokmin’s left fingertips. They are very nice hands.

“Do you play guitar?” Myungho asks, pointing at the calluses with his fork. Seokmin looks surprised and delighted at the same time when Myungho notices the little detail about his body.

“Yes! I’m self-taught, and I don’t have guitar hands, so I’ll never get very good, but I really love the instrument. It’s small and simple and easy.”

“Would you like to play me a song with your guitar someday?”

Myungho thinks he sounds too flirty, but Seokmin doesn’t seem to notice it. He lets out a grin and nods his head enthusiastically.

“Sure. You can request any songs you like.”

“Sweet. Does it mean we will meet again?”

“Of course. I enjoy your company so far. Do you enjoy my company?”

“Absolutely.”

Seokmin smiles from ear to ear. His cheeks flush pink in excitement. His eyes shimmer like sun glitter.

Seokmin is the cutest, dumbest person that Myungho has ever met.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Seokmin is everyone's pabo ☀️💞


	5. Chapter 5

Today Myungho turns twenty.

His mother doesn’t seem to remember, because she goes to her office early as usual and doesn’t leave anything on the coffee table or leaving notes on the refrigerator door. Myungho doesn’t bother. His mother is basically no one in his eyes now.

When the sun rises, he brushes his teeth, throws whatever clothes are at hand, rides the train to college, and takes notes in class. Today is like his usual daily routine; it’s only different when Mingyu texts him a birthday wish. He types back to Mingyu.

_How do you know today’s my birthday?_

Mingyu replies.

_Wonwoo once told me._

Another text comes up.

_We should celebrate your birthday tonight._

Myungho cannot say no to that. After class, he goes home, takes a long relaxing shower, then carefully chooses clothes for tonight’s meeting with Mingyu. He chooses a black turtleneck sweater, a chocolate blazer, and a pair of black trousers. By nighttime, Mingyu arrives at the meeting spot, as usual, he is seven minutes late, wearing a white T-shirt under a blue jeans jacket and and a pair of comfortable jeans.

“Where are we going?” Myungho asks.

“How about we get a drink at my favorite bar?”

Myungho nods. Mingyu then grabs Myungho’s hand and takes him to an underground bar behind a Kyobo bookstore. The bar is secluded so no wonder it isn't packed with too many customers. The atmosphere of the bar is not bad either. The lights are dim and laid-back jazz music plays softly in the background. It is a perfect place for people who want to chill and enjoy conversations accompanied by alcoholic beverages without getting wasted. They start with two vodka and tonics.

“Happy birthday,” Mingyu congratulates him again. He lightly clinks his glass to Myungho's.

“Thanks,” Myungho murmurs.

“Thanks,” Mingyu mimics Myungho, “The way you talk is so weird.”

“It is? I think it’s a normal way to show your gratitude for someone who congratulates you.”

"It's weird," Mingyu disagrees. "It's more about the way you say your gratitude. And your expression. It’s not like you hate your own birthday, but you have this kind of expression of someone who has just heard that they have a terminal illness from a doctor.”

“I might have that kind of expression, but deep down I am grateful.”

Mingyu titters. He drinks down his vodka and tonic, waives the waiter over then orders one more vodka and tonic.

“Anyway, Wonwoo and I used to have this peculiar but amusing ritual to celebrate our birthday. I am thinking that maybe you want to experience the fun.”

“Do you mind to elaborate?”

“It’s a long story but I’ll try to make it short. The first day we dated, Wonwoo told me that he’s bi, which made sense because he loved and married your mother, and I was totally okay with that. There’s nothing wrong with being bi. One day, which was his birthday, he confessed to me that he had this one fantasy that he wanted to experience. That fantasy was he wanted to have a threesome with me and one woman. I said to him ‘I didn’t know that you have this lewd imagination about me’. He replied, ‘I always have this particular image in my head of me fucking you from behind while you fuck a nameless woman in front of you.' I was amused and asked him to continue. Wonwoo then sat closer to me and whispered to my ear, 'She says how good we are, especially the rhythm of your length inside of her dictated by my body behind you. Her orgasm hits her hard and fast and soon after, I follow in a few short thrusts and come inside you.’ I laughed at him and complimented him on his vivid imagination. Can you imagine, Myungho, that Wonwoo thought about those kinds of dirty things while doing laundry or cooking you dinner? What a pervert. I want another drink.”

Myungho calls the waiter and orders a fifth round of drinks. Until they come, Mingyu cups his chin in his hand with his elbow on the bar.

“Anyway, I was impressed by his idea and suggested him to actualize his imagination into reality. It didn’t take long for us to find a suitable woman. She was drunk and horny. She told us that having a threesome with two bisexual men was her and every woman’s fantasy. Wonwoo chuckled at the notion and said she read too many hardcore porn novels. She objected, saying that she was inspired by watching ‘The Dreamers’ by Bernardo Bertolucci. I laughed so hard and told her that it was so stupid and ridiculous, but she wasn’t offended at all. We then went to a nearby motel, took a bath together, and had a threesome. It was fun and different and refreshing.”

When his drink arrives, Myungho takes a sip of his second vodka and tonic.

“So, are you saying that you want to have a threesome with me and a woman?”

Mingyu lits up his cigarette and smiles, “What I am saying is you can use me to fulfill your sexual fantasy. If you have one, I will try to help you with my utmost effort.”

“You sound so dedicated, I am impressed.”

Mingyu chuckles. It’s his fifth glass and he looks a little bit tipsy. He rests his elbow on the bar and looks at Myungho, rattling the ice in his glass. His big, limpid eyes blink lazily as he studies Myungho's face and admires every part and every curve of his face. He lets out a slow smile. 

There is something different about Mingyu tonight, especially the way he looks at him. Mingyu looks at him attentively and full of appreciation as if Myungho is totally naked in front of him and Mingyu devours every inch of his body with his eyes. It’s very overwhelming, but it makes him desirable in Mingyu’s eyes and he would be a hypocrite if he doesn’t like the attention.

He begins to wonder of this is how Mingyu behaves when he is plastered. He looks relaxed, dangerous, and fuckable. Myungho thinks about Mingyu. He thinks about him naked. He thinks about the broadness of his shoulders, the narrowness of his cleavage, the slimness of his belly, and his jutting hip bones. What a beautiful body. It is so beautiful Myungho can already feel his two hands, ten fingers caress Mingyu’s smooth and warm skin.

“Well? Time’s up. Do you have one in your mind?” Mingyu puts a piece of ice in his mouth and sucks on it for a while. 

“I do,” Myungho says. “I want to have sex with you.” 

Mingyu laughs humorlessly, “That’s it? That’s all you want for your birthday?”

“That’s all.”

Mingyu crosses his long, slim legs while eating pistachio. "Compared to Wonwoo, you surely lack creativity.”

“I haven’t had sex with a man before.”

“That’s understandable.”

“Is it weird to think about having sex with only one person?"

Mingyu takes a sip of his drink and examines the slice of lime from several angles.

"No, it's not weird at all, but usually people who are in your shoes will use this opportunity to go wild. I am just wondering why you throw away such an opportunity to give in to your animal urge and choose to have casual sex with me only."

Myungho looks at Mingyu and he really wants to explain to him, 'I want our intercourse to be very nice and slow and unrushed. I want to hold you, caress you, and kiss your naked flesh. I want us to cling to each other’s nakedness, sharing our imperfections. By the morning, I want to smell the scent of your body and feel the warmth of your skin.' But of course, he cannot say that, because he is no one in Mingyu's life now. He is there, sitting besides Mingyu, only because Mingyu wants him to be there with him and not the other way around. Mingyu is the one who is in control, that's how their relationship works.

"I want to enjoy our moment together. I don’t want to be alone on my birthday.”

"Enjoy our moment together? Like walking around aimlessly, eating Kebab while getting to know each other better, and having fulfilling sex?”

“Yes, things like that.”

Mingyu seems impressed. He thinks about it. He seems to want to say something but then thinks better of it. After a while, he speaks.

"I kind of like that. Let's do it.”

They leave the bar after six rounds of vodka and tonic. A little drunk, Mingyu misses one step, and they almost fall back down the stairs. Tonight’s sky is totally dark now, with a layer of dark clouds making the sky pitch black. It is going to rain soon.

Myungho and Mingyu stroll the streets for a time.

"Let us start with an important question," Mingyu starts.

"What is it?"

"What's your favorite color?"

Myungho chuckles, " Do you think that's an important question?"

"Don’t underestimate trivial things about a person. We might have something in common."

Myungho thinks for a while. “Do you want to know me better?”

“Of course. I want to know about you better.”

Mingyu wants to know him better. Does he genuinely want to know him better?

"My favorite color is red.”

Mingyu’s face lits up. “My favorite color is red too! See? We finally have something in common!”

Myungho giggles, looking at Mingyu who somehow becomes more cheerful and talkative than usual. He wonders maybe he becomes like this because of the effect of alcohol. Myungho likes this version of Mingyu. He looks so carefree, happy, and alive.

They walk for a while now, but they haven’t found a Kebab stall nearby. They end up finding a stall selling Southeast Asian snacks and eating fried bananas and some gizzard satay. After that, they enter a convenience store and buy a bottle of mineral water and share it together.

“What’s your favorite swear word?” Mingyu asks again when they start walking again.

“I have plenty. Should I just pick one?”

“Yes, you should only pick one.”

Myungho hums while thinking. Mingyu lits a cigarette and smokes while walking.

“I think my favorite swear word is ‘fuck’ because it has so many meanings and depths depending on the context.”

“‘Fuck’ huh?”

“Yes, ‘fuck’. What about you?”

“Unfortunately, my favorite is ‘shit’. I usually say it when I accidentally do annoying things. For example, I say ‘shit’ when I make typos or when I drop my phone for no absolute reason, or when I get on the wrong train.”

Myungho narrows his eyes in a tight line. “ _Get on the wrong train?_ ”

“Yes, and I do that often actually,” Mingyu says.

“I didn’t know you are that clumsy.”

“I know. And I hate that part of me. But on the bright side, when I get on the wrong train, I have a chance to explore the city and see things that I don’t usually witness, particularly things that you ignore because you are too absorbed in the urban, fast-paced life. Things like seeing a stray cat sleeping on roof or watching summer shower from inside the train cart. It’s simple and beautiful.”

Myungho agrees.

At 11 pm, they take the last train to Mingyu’s house. The moment they arrive at the station, the heavy rain suddenly pours. Myungho suggests they wait at the station until the rain stops, but Mingyu says the rain is heavy and it won’t stop until morning so he prefers to walk down the street. Myungho doesn’t like getting wet with clothes on, but before he protests, Mingyu has already run from the station towards his house, leaving Myungho with no choice. By the time they reach the front door, they are completely soaking wet. Mingyu makes fun of Myungho while rummaging his pants pocket, trying to find the house key, saying that he looks like a grumpy drenched cat. Myungho sulks and Mingyu lets out a hearty laugh.

Once they enter the house, Mingyu begins to undress, leaving his soggy clothes on the floor with a puddle of rainwater around his feet. He then opens the bathroom door and asks Myungho to join him. They shower together while waiting for the bathtub filled with water. Mingyu takes initiative to massage the shampoo into Myungho’s scalp. Before long, they wash each other’s hair and exfoliate each other’s skin.

When the tub is two-thirds full of warm water, Mingyu turns off the water and invites Myungho to dip into the water with him. They then sit across each other. The only sound that fills the bathroom at that moment is the sound of trickling water from their hair. Mingyu just stares at him, unmoving while hugging his knees. Myungho stares back at him, and Mingyu's eyes say nothing. Mingyu’s previous glittering eyes filled with excitement and happiness are now replaced by an intense but empty look. He tries to guess what Mingyu is thinking right now while looking at him, but he cannot find the meaning behind the gaze.

Myungho swallows and it is like a signal for Mingyu to move. He glides toward Myungho, kneels in front of him with eyes still fixed on his, puts his wet hands on both sides of Myungho’s head, then titles his head and kisses him with his warm, wet lips. His tender gesture, his lips that are so moist, soft, and plump against his, and the warm water dripping down from Mingyu’s arms to his shoulders and chest give Myungho’s erection a terrifying intensity.

They reach the bed once the water starts to turn cold. Silently, slowly, Mingyu gropes Myungho’s body with his fingers and tongue. Mingyu’s gentle and delicate fingers wander over every inch of Myungho’s body, arousing him completely. The caresses continue until Mingyu begins to apply generous amount of lube on his opening then on Myungho's penis. He puts his hands on Myungho’s chest, straddles him, takes hold of his rigid, erect penis, and guides it inside him. Mingyu’s face is contorted into a mask of pleasure laced with a delicious sort of pain.

“Sorry, it’s been a while,” Mingyu whispers.

“That’s okay.”

Mingyu presses his forehead on Myungho’s. He touches Mingyu’s face tenderly, and kisses his lips. 

“How do you feel so far?” Mingyu asks.

“I feel good.”

Mingyu smiles sweetly. “I feel good too.”

Mingyu starts moving and grinding slowly once they both feel comfortable. He bends his body closer to Myungho, their faces are no more than ten inches apart. Mingyu locks his gaze at Myungho’s eyes and kisses his lips every now and then.

Myungho says that he wants to orgasm and Mingyu stops riding him. Just as he comes, Mingyu quickly bents over, takes Myungho’s penis in his mouth, and takes all the gushing, copious semen inside his mouth. He patiently and carefully accepts all of it so that it won’t get the sheets dirty, and licks his penis clean with his tongue once Myungho has finished.

“You said before that you are not a fan of swallowing semen.”

Mingyu smiles. His cheeks flush red and a sheen of perspiration covers his forehead. Mingyu looks so beautiful like a newly blooming Tuberose in the night that exudes a tropical and summery smell.

“Tonight is an exception. Did you like it?”

Myungho nods. “That’s hot.”

Mingyu lets out a light chuckle. He bends his body to Myungho’s laying body on the bed, touches his face, and kisses him again. The kiss is deliberate, careful, and perfect.

“Happy birthday, Myungho,” Mingyu whispers into Myungho’s mouth.

Myungho has this indefinability thrilling sensation in his mind and body. One part of him relaxed, another part tightened up. He doesn’t understand about it all, but he is determined to find out the meaning of that feeling, of that sensation. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Suicidal thoughts

Minghao is at the launch event of Mingyu’s latest book.

He is fortunate to get a seat there because Mingyu already secured a spot for him. Mingyu said to him earlier that the first three rows are designated for media guests, key-sale influencers, photographers, and high-profile celebrities so he could only guarantee an empty seat for him in the fourth row. Minghao didn't really bother where he can sit, he was more intrigued when the PR team decided to invite celebrities. Mingyu said to him that in the digital age, those people were needed to make news and an instant bandwagon to raise awareness of his new book. It’s the PR team's idea, not mine, I don’t even care who will come to the book launch, Mingyu said to him. 

Myungho thinks that at least the PR team did a good job. The seats in the first three rows are already packed with journalists and famous people. He recognizes most of them because they have been making a lot of appearances on television. Myungho doubts that Mingyu befriends all these people because they look full of themselves and are attention-seekers. Mingyu whom Myungho knows prefers to keep his private life away from all of the craziness. Rather than spending his 10 million dollar fortune on a jet-set lifestyle, he prefers to buy a small, old house on the outskirts of the city, purchase earthy and humble ingredients for his homemade dishes, and drink Chivas Regal at his favorite night bar.

The event has not yet started, but the hall is already full of people whom Myungho assumes are well known and important. He looks at several spots where broadcast journalists are interviewing important guests while waiting for the event to start. Some photographers and news cameramen are gathered in an ample room in front of the stage, assembling their cameras and tripods to set up their shots while testing whether their cameras work properly. Print journalists, either newspapers and magazines, open laptop computers on their laps and start reading and typing once several PR officers approach them and hand them a press kit. Myungho looks at his back, finding less important and less famed people who sit in rows behind him. They must be readers who have a keen interest in meeting Mingyu. Looking at all of the madness in the hall, it just dawned on him that Mingyu is indeed incredibly popular.

The time has come for the event to begin. A moderator, a woman wearing a lovely peach mini dress stands at the stage and welcomes the guests. She looks experienced and knows how to run a conference; she doesn’t indulge in lengthy introductions or re-hashing material that’s stated in the press kit. After the introduction, she asks the audience to give a warm welcome to Mingyu.

When people give applause, Mingyu appears from the back of the stage, waving and smiling in a polite, proper manner while walking to his seat. He wears a pair of coffee color pants with a matching tie and a navy blue long sleeve shirt with sleeves rolled up below his elbows. His raven, lustrous hair is styled in a classic yet chic side-swept. In a matter of seconds, camera flashes are everywhere, people gasp and murmur in admiration and the sound of cameras clicking and the keyboard typing enliven the big hall. Mingyu hasn’t said any words but all people there are already enthralled by him like a group of antique hobbyists who look at a porcelain vase of the Qianlong period worth millions of dollars.

Mingyu sits on a single-seater sofa, takes his microphone from the moderator’s arm, and greets the audience. The way Mingyu sits, speaks, politely smiles, and occasionally moves his hands when explaining a brief content of his book has bewitched every individual in that room. People are drawn by his beauty and charm; they listen, agree, and are captivated with every move and every word that Mingyu makes like devoted followers listening to their beloved prophet preaching about God.

By the time the Q-and-A session starts, most of the media guests raise their hands. Some even act rude by asking questions without the moderator’s consent. Like a good moderator, she tries to control the situation by pointing one of the reporters to identify themselves before asking a question. The situation becomes slowly but surely under control. The journalists ask many questions, from questions related to Mingyu’s book to his diet and sense of fashion (the question comes from a lifestyle magazine journalist). Mingyu looks appreciative and patient in answering those questions, even the silliest ones. 

However, Mingyu’s perfect attitude slightly changes when a journalist asks him about the recent death of Wonwoo, his previous editor, and what did Wonwoo mean to him. People might not notice, but Myungho is fully aware of how Mingyu’s jaw clenched or his hands faintly tremble when the journalist is asking the question. His eyes for a moment look empty and withdrawn and his lips are thin and tight. He takes a deep breath and lets out a smile.

“Wonwoo was everything to me. He understood my character and my style of writing. He was a professional and benevolent editor. Every night he asked me, ‘How’s your day?’ and ‘How’s your writing? Will I be the first person who read it?’ and then we discussed the script. He had a beautiful personality and mind. He will always have a special place in my heart and I will not give that place to anyone forever.”

The answer might be brief, professional, and touching, but Myungho knows by heart that Mingyu means every single word. He still loves his father and will never let anyone take that feeling anywhere from his heart. Myungho wonders if Mingyu has a special place in his heart for him too; it doesn’t matter how small it is, as long as it exists.

  
  


After the press conference, the next session is a book signing. Hundreds of people who queue at the building finally have a chance to go inside, buy the book, and queue again to meet their much-admired author. Mingyu and his admirers are separated by a wooden table, where Mingyu greets them and thanks to them for coming into the book signing event. He then chats with each one of those people about his previous books, asks for their name, and autographs the book for them. Mingyu doesn’t look tired or fed up with the routine. He welcomes every one of them with his calm, self-possessed smile. Mingyu looks so professional to the point where Myungho silently applauds Mingyu’s work ethic.

Myungho is not interested in queueing, though, let alone asking Mingyu for his autograph. He then gets out of the building, roams the streets for a time, and finds a small Korean restaurant. He decides to have dinner there. He orders a plate of kimchi fried rice, a bowl of Korean seasoned spinach, and a glass of barley tea to the waitress.

After eating, he receives a text from Mingyu, asking his whereabouts. Myungho types the location of the restaurant to Mingyu. He then requests Myungho to buy him a pack of Honey Butter Chip. Myungho then goes to a convenience store and buys one. He deliberately adds a bottle of dried jujube tea to a shopping basket because he thinks Mingyu will get thirsty after eating chips.

Myungho tells Mingyu through text that he already has arrived and Mingyu tells him in the text that he should wait for him at the back door. It doesn’t take long for Mingyu to open the door and drag him onto a long corridor then take him inside of his private room. Mingyu locks the door, takes Myungho’s hand, and guides him to sit on a chair across him.

“Sorry I have to welcome you from the back door. The press is all over the main entrance,” Mingyu says while taking a plastic bag and pulls out the Honey Butter Chip. He looks at the bottle of dried jujube tea inside the plastic bag.

“Did you buy me this tea?”

Myungho gives a short nod. “I thought you would get thirsty after eating all those chips.”

Mingyu gives a grateful smile. “Thank you. That's very thoughtful of you."

Myungho feels himself reddening. Mingyu offers him his chips, but Myungho refuses, saying that his stomach is already full. Mingyu takes a handful of chips and inserts them inside his mouth. The way Mingyu eats his chips reminds Myungho of a bulldozer.

“Are you hungry?” Myungho asks.

Mingyu shakes his head while chewing chips. “I suddenly developed a craving to eat Honey Butter Chip.”

“Like a pregnant woman?”

“Yes. Like a pregnant woman.”

”You are weird,” Myungho lets out a sneer. And he smiles.

Mingyu eats the last chip and drinks the last drop of his dried jujube tea. He smiles at Myungho and leans closer. His hand is resting on a chair armrest while the other one smoothes out wrinkles on Myungho’s blue classic shirt; his fingers intentionally brush Myungho’s chest.

“Can I kiss you?” Mingyu asks with eyes full of want.

Myungho nods.

Mingyu kisses his lips then up to his ear to his neck. He takes Myungho’s hand and starts sucking Myungho’s fingers one by one with slow, gentle, and light pressure as if Myungho’s fingers are the most delicate, precious thing in the world. He starts with Myungho's index finger, taking plenty of time to kiss, suck, and lick it, then moves to his middle finger and so on. As Myungho’s breathing intensifies and his throat begins to tremble, Mingyu looks up.

“I didn’t know you have sensitive fingers,” says Mingyu while giving a light bite on his middle finger.

“If you know it, stop doing that to my fingers.”

“Why?”

“Because I am getting hard.”

"Perfect. That's what I intended to."

Mingyu stops playing with his fingers. His eyes are still on Myungho’s eyes while his hands are making an attempt to unbuckle Myungho’s pants.

“Tell me, Myungho, have you masturbated this morning?” Mingyu asks. 

“I have.”

“Were you thinking of me while masturbating?”

“Yes, I was.”

“That’s wonderful. Now choose, do you want me to stroke or suck your penis?”

Myungho looks at Mingyu’s large hands and he imagines how wonderful it feels to have Mingyu use his hand to bring him to climax. However, when he remembers how beautiful Mingyu’s lips on his fingers and how his tongue skilfully, boldly curls around them, he thinks the second option would be much better.

“My break ends soon. I will bring you to come in less than five minutes,” Mingyu says more to himself like a pledge that must be kept. He slides down and touches Myungho’s penis with his lips, then envelopes it with his warmth and runs his tongue all over it. Myungho comes within four minutes. Just like the first time Mingyu gave him oral sex, he doesn’t swallow. Before the semen smears on his pants, Mingyu takes sheets of tissue and carefully wipes his penis clean.

“Sorry, I have to go now.” Mingyu stands up, drinks a glass of water to rinse his mouth, and checks whether he looks presentable. Before Myungho opens the door, Mingyu takes his hand, kisses him, and thanks him for accompanying him and buying him Honey Butter Chip. He then tells Myungho that the event ends at 10 pm and asks him to wait for him until then. Myungho says he will wait for him at the parking lot.

They part in the corridor; Mingyu goes toward the main room where Myungho goes to the back door. There are still two more hours until the event ends. Myungho goes downtown to a movie theater in the shopping district and kills time watching a movie he doesn’t particularly want to see. Minutes after the movie ends, Mingyu texts him informing him that he is now free and is waiting for him at the parking lot. Myungho looks at his wristwatch, noticing that the event ends seven minutes before ten. He walks for around ten minutes before reaching the parking lot of the venue. There, Mingyu is standing near the parking lot entrance, body leaning on chain-link fencing, a cigarette between his lips.

This is the first time for Mingyu to wait for him and not the other way around.

“There you are,” Mingyu says after Myungho finally stands beside him. He smiles and lits his cigarette with a lighter. He walks out of the parking lot and Myungho follows. Myungho tries to open a conversation, from congratulating him for the success of the book launch to narrating the plot of movie he watched at the cinema, but when he realizes that Mingyu isn’t saying anything, he also falls silent. Neither of them says a word as they walk toward a train station.

“I don’t feel like going home today,” Mingyu finally says after some time goes by.

“Why?” Myungho asks.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Mingyu says as if he suddenly remembers something. “I will visit many cities, including traveling abroad on book promotion and to attend literary festivals. I will be gone for one month. You can visit my house anytime you want while I am not there.”

Myungho nods while doesn’t say anything. He begins to think about how he will survive without meeting Mingyu for one month. Tonight’s chill wind blows, making Myungho shiver. He tightens his coat and puts both of his hands inside the coat pockets.

As they reach the station, they sit on a platform bench waiting for the train to pull in. Mingyu takes out a new box of cigarettes from his coat pocket, cuts the seal, and puts one in his mouth.

“Can I tell you one depressing story of mine? It's a confession, more or less, and I have never told anyone before. Maybe you don't want to hear it, but I want to open about my own pain."

Myungho nods, uncertain where this is going. “Sure. What’s the story about?”

“During the event, one journalist asked my thoughts about Wonwoo’s death. It reminded me about this particular situation. Two days after Wonwoo’s passing, I was thinking about ending my life. I felt very depressed and miserable and I thought life was meaningless whenever I thought Wonwoo’s body had turned into a fistful of ash. One night I couldn’t stand it. I thought I couldn’t live like this anymore. I walked out of my house, still wearing my overwashed T-shirt and boxer shorts, and ordered a taxi to a bridge. Throughout the ride, I thought about how I would die. Would I die of ruptured organs and broken neck once my body hit the water or would I die of drowning? Would it be painful? Would it be painless? By the time I arrived at the bridge, I paid the driver and said thanks. He wasn't aware about my suicide intent. He just took my money and drove off.”

Mingyu takes a deep breath and smiles at Myungho. He smokes another cigarette before continuing.

“After that, I stood by the barrier, looking at the black water under me. I was ready to jump off it, but I suddenly felt hungry and I wanted a bowl of pork ramen. In my head, all I was thinking about was the savory smell of the broth, the smoothness of the noodles, the tenderness of the pork, and the delicate bitter taste of boiled leeks. _How ridiculous!_ My life was saved by a thought of eating a bowl of pork ramen.”

The station announcement informs them that Mingyu’s train is about to arrive in five minutes. Mingyu crushes out his cigarette in the stainless steel cigarette dustbin near him.

“In the end, I didn’t jump, then I walked at 2 am like a homeless person to find a late-night Japanese diner. It took me a while to find one but I finally found one diner that opened. At first, I ordered one bowl, then two, and three, my stomach was so full I couldn’t even move. The owner of the restaurant offered me a can of beer and I took it. We had a nice chat about anything that came to mind until dawn. I said to the owner that I didn’t bring money with me and would be back soon, but he said I didn’t have to pay because he said that I already paid him with a nice conversation. All I could do was thank him. I still come to his place several times.”

The train has arrived; passengers from the previous station jump off of the train cart, while the new passengers climb aboard the train.

Mingyu looks down at the white tiles beneath his feet, looking deep in thought. He then stands up and walks toward the train. Before he steps inside, he stares right at Myungho’s eye with his unusually limpid, sharp eyes.

“Say, Myungho, do you promise not to leave me? Promise me that you will not leave me. Even though you think your life is hollow and meaningless and you’re thinking about ending your life, please think about me, think only about me, and make sure that you die after me.”

Myungho sees Mingyu is crying. Before he knows it, Myungho is kissing him. Others on the platform are staring at them, but Myungho doesn’t care about such things anymore.

“I promise,” is what Myungho says. They hold hands for a moment, and then part.


	7. Chapter 7

Myungho meets Seokmin again at the college swimming pool.

As Myungho is about to make another flip turn, someone taps the back of his right hand as it touches the pool wall. He looks up and Seokmin is squatting there in his swim trunks, black goggles pushed up on his forehead, his usual pleasant smile gracing his face.

“New goggles?” Myungho starts the conversation.

Seokmin walks through a handrail and climbs down to the water then swims approaching Myungho.

“Yes, I bought it recently. Do I look like Michael Phelps now?”

Myungho smiles, “You wish.”

“I’m kidding," Seokmin grins, "my previous goggles were damaged, that’s the reason I bought a new one. It’s pretty expensive, but the quality is way better.”

“Higher price equals good quality.”

“I agree," Seokmin pushes down his goggles to his eyes. "Let's swim before the water gets colder."

Not many people swim in the college swimming pool that afternoon and they nearly have the pool to themselves, so they can enjoy going at their own pace. Seokmin swims beside him and he swims ahead of Myungho.

While swimming, Myungho watches Seokmin’s movements in the water, mesmerized by the subtle white foam generated by Seokmin’s simple, confident kicks. The scene leaves him slightly hypnotized. Seokmin told him that he has been swimming again for only two months (“I played volleyball back in high school the last time I swim was when I was an elementary student”, Seokmin once told him), but his movements in the water don’t look awkward or stiff at all.

After they swim for 45 minutes, Myungho thinks he has enough exercise for today, but Seokmin has not tired yet and wants to swim for several laps. Myungho then climbs out of the pool and sits on a plastic chair by the side of the pool. He watches Seokmin continue to swim while rubbing his wet hair with a towel. Seokmin’s swimming style is introspective, a contrast from his personality as a man who likes to talk about everything that comes to his mind. He swims with no splash and unnecessary sound. His elbows rise beautifully and pliantly in the air, then his arms quietly enter the water with thumbs first.

By the time they have showered and changed in the locker room, they eat at a college cafeteria. Seokmin buys a 2,500 won dinner menu consisting of fish cutlets with tartar sauce, Korean spicy pork stir fry, Korean cucumber salad, cooked rice, and spicy squid stew with tofu. Myungho buys a 3,000 won dinner consisting of pumpkin soup, apples, breaded and fried shrimp, white Kimchi, fish cake soup, and bibimbap.

While eating, Seokmin asks Myungho if he wants to spend the night with him.

“I just got my driver’s license and I want you to be my first passenger,” said Seokmin with a big, proud grin on his face. 

“You shouldn’t tell me that I am your first passenger because it makes me nervous,” said Myungho after gulping his water bottle.

Seokmin giggles. “I should be the one who’s nervous, but I guess if you’re my passenger, I will be fine because you don’t talk much.”

“I maybe don’t talk much, but I swear a lot.”

Seokmin smiles lovingly. “For a soft-spoken person like you, I am surprised that you like to curse.”

“Not all soft-spoken people are what they seem.”

“Tell me, why do you like cursing?”

Myungho shrugs while munching his food. “I don’t exactly know the reason behind it. How do I put it? In my point of view, profanity can be useful, expressive, and even artful.”

Seokmin laughs. “That’s the weirdest thing that comes out of your mouth, but I do agree with your opinion somehow.”

Seokmin has finished eating and points at Myungho’s abandoned apples and asks him whether he’s going to eat them. Myungho shakes his head and says that Seokmin can eat them all. Seokmin gladly takes two slices of apples and puts them in his mouth.

After they finish eating, they head to a parking lot. Along the way to Seokmin’s car, Seokmin tells Myungho that he lives in an apartment that was previously occupied by his sister and her boyfriend. After his sister got married, the apartment was vacant and he lives there. He said that their family is not that well-off, but his father runs a real estate business in his hometown and owns some properties, including the apartment. Seokmin admits that it is not bad to live in an apartment since he can cook freely in a kitchen. The only thing he doesn’t like about living in that apartment is that he receives regular phone calls from his sister’s previous boyfriends.

When they reach the parking lot, Seokmin walks approaching a small car that is parked at the corner of the lot. Seokmin’s car is an old Toyota Corolla with a stain on the backseat that looks like a dog has peed there. Myungho wonders why Seokmin’s father didn’t buy a brand-new car for his only son, but perhaps it’s because his father doesn’t want to pamper Seokmin too much.

“Do you like listening to music when driving?” Seokmin asks after successfully starting the engine of his car.

Myungho shrugs, “It depends on the mood.”

“I see. Do you mind if we don’t play any music today? It’s not my first time driving this car, but it is definitely my first time bringing a passenger with me, so I have to be very concentrated and careful.”

Myungho gives a short nod. “Sure.”

Seokmin releases the accelerator pedal and at the same time presses the clutch pedal down. His left hand transfers from the steering wheel to the gear knob then moves the lever gently from 1 to 3. Seokmin cracks the windows, letting the summer night breeze dry their damp hair. Myungho looks out the window and notices that Seokmin is taking them to the highway. He doesn’t ask Seokmin where they are heading to, since he enjoys the ride. He settles into his passenger seat and watches streetlights pass by.

Throughout the ride, Seokmin asks Myungho about his recent hobby besides swimming. When Myungho says to Seokmin that he has been interested in sketching and watercolor painting, Seokmin asks Myungho to tell him the details. Myungho begins to tell him about his sketches and paintings, what kind of objects he likes to draw, and drawing and watercolor paint kits he uses. Seokmin keeps his eyes on the road, but he smiles and nods every now and then, signaling that he listens to Myungho’s every word carefully.

After passing the highway, Seokmin turns the car to an incline through a forest. They eventually come to a stop. They are on a hill overlooking the city skyline against the bay. The night air rustles trees near them as soft lights from the buildings in the city blink almost rhythmically. The panorama itself looks plenty gorgeous.

Seokmin gets out of his car, opens the car trunk, and brings an acoustic guitar, two small cushions, and two cans of beer. He then sits on the hood of his car and invites Myungho to sit beside him.

“I have been living in this city for twenty years, but I didn’t know this place exists,” Myungho says.

“Not many people know this place, therefore it’s empty. It’s actually kind of a hidden spot so don’t tell anyone about this place. Pinky promise?”

Seokmin raises his pinky finger and smiles at Myungho.

“Pinky promise for me is the most serious, sacred vowel that humans have ever invented so far. Some said pinky promise comes from Japan and it is called ‘finger cut-off’. There is a Japanese children’s song about the pinky promise too, saying that whoever breaks the promise must swallow one thousand needles and cut off a digit.”

“That sounds pretty serious and gruesome,” Myungho comments.

“It is, but that what makes you stick to your promise, to show that you really mean it. Now, do you promise me that you won’t tell anyone about this place?”

Myungho sticks his pinky finger out and entwines their fingers together. Seokmin’s face lifts up and he gives Myungho a heartfelt smile. He then tunes his guitar and starts strumming the strings. He starts playing Mitski’s “Nobody”, then “What Once Was” by Her’s, and Dreamgirl’s “Teenage Blue”.

When Seokmin plays Kirinji’s “Aliens'', he starts to sing. His voice is melodious and is pleasant to Myungho’s ear. Seokmin’s guitar playing might be average, but his singing is above par. Myungho drinks his beer and listens to Seokmin sing and looks at the scenery in front of him.

“Hey, Myungho, I have this weird idea,” Seokmin says after finishing playing the song, “what if humans came from aliens and not monkeys? I don’t mean to offend the monkeys, they are fabulous creatures, but we have something mysterious that separates us from other living beings. We are travelers and dreamers. We long for the universe, exploring outer space as if we are looking for our other half living on other planets somewhere in different galaxies.”

Myungho nods while sipping his beer. Seokmin puts his guitar down.

“I am not trying to create a new conspiracy theory. I am simply thinking about that possibility. Do you think I am weird for thinking about that?” Seokmin titles his head and looks at Myungho.

Myungho shakes his head. “Definitely not. I think what you said earlier is a thought-provoking notion, but there is some truth in it.”

Seokmin’s eyes shine. He smiles while looking at Myungho with eyes full of adoration. “You know how to flatter someone, do you?”

Myungho can feel his face reddening. “I am just saying what’s on my mind that’s all.”

Seokmin grins. He rearranges his cushion and lays down.

“You have this inborn quality of making other people feel comfortable around you. How should I put it, you are not that friendly-type person. You look mysterious, almost nonchalant, like a surface of a calm lake during autumn but that what makes me attracted to you. It calms me to just talk to you and hear your responses. It makes me want to be candid to you, to show who I really am.”

Myungho joins Seokmin to lay beside him. He looks at Seokmin who is staring at the night sky above them. When their eyes meet, Myungho sees stars in Seokmin’s eyes.

"I want to know more about you," Seokmin says.

"I want to know more about you too, beyond swimming and your obsession with a mermaid."

Seokmin titters. "Okay. Do you have any questions about me?"

"I do. Do you someone you like?"

Seokmin changes his body position from a side position to a back position. He looks upon the sky again while sighing.

"I am not sure about now, but I had a relationship back when I was in high school. She was my German teacher."

"Do you like older women?" Myungho asks.

"I think I do. Probably because I have an older sister. But I also like people who are the same age as me," Seokmin glances at Myungho before he continues.

"My German teacher was cheerful and an enjoyable conversationalist. She wasn't typically beautiful, but I liked her appearance. Her clothes were always simple and subdued, but they were lovely and fit her perfectly."

"You have a thing with well-dressed women, have you?"

Seokmin gives a sheepish smile. "Yes, you could say that. When I was young, my sister always asked me about her outfit before she went out on a date. I would give my honest opinion and suggestions from a male perspective and she respected my opinion, which made me happy."

"Tell me more about your German teacher because I am intrigued."

Seokmin continues. "She wasn't good at cooking but enjoyed cleaning. The first time I came to her apartment, it was sparkling clean, as if the whole apartment was a hotel room. After we had sex, she always replaced the sheets and pillowcases with brand-new ones. She was such a neat freak I sometimes laughed at her for her behavior."

Seokmin falls silent for a moment then begins to talk again. "We saw each other for eight months, then mutually agreed to break up, just after I graduated from high school. While she was seeing me, she had another boyfriend in her hometown and she was going to marry him."

"Did you regret your decision for having a relationship with her?"

Seokmin shakes his head. "I didn't. I knew from the beginning that she had a boyfriend and would marry him. We knew that our relationship was not meant beyond our current relationship as two lovers. We just simply attracted each other, enjoyed our moments together while they lasted, and ended it when the time came."

If an ordinary person hears Seokmin's story, they must think that Seokmin's past relationship is pointless and stupid. However, Myungho doesn't think that way because he understands as he is currently in a non-romantic relationship with Mingyu.

Myungho thinks about Mingyu. He remembers how Mingyu touches and kisses him tenderly as if Myungho is precious porcelain that must be handled and treated with care. Every time Mingyu kisses his lips or caresses his skin, he is fully aware that Mingyu still cannot let himself fall in love with anyone other than his dead father and never let Myungho go beyond what they are now. The only difference between him and Seokmin is that he is not ready yet to stop seeing or thinking about Mingyu. He is not prepared for a moment when Mingyu says that he doesn't need him anymore and leaves him.

“What about you, Myungho? Do you have someone you like?” Seokmin asks.

“I do,” Myungho says.

Seokmin hums in acknowledgment. “Tell me more about this person.”

Myungho weighs what he is about to say before he speaks. “He was my father’s paramour for five years, but after my father died, I have become my father’s replacement.”

A deep silence descends around them. For a moment, Myungho cannot hear a single sound.

“That’s complicated,” Seokmin says to fill in the silence.

“You’re right, it’s complicated.”

Seokmin shifts his gaze from Myungho’s eyes to somewhere as if looking for an answer. He then looks at Myungho again. “Does he love you?”

“That is a question that I cannot answer right now.”

Seokmin gazes into his eyes for a time, his voice serious. "How so?"

"He said to me that he needs me, not loves me. I think he only needs me to lessen his loneliness."

Seokmin reaches out and rests his hand on top of Myungho's head. 

"Poor Myungho," he said. The softness of Seokmin's touch slowly spreads through him. After a moment, Seokmin takes his hand away. Myungho misses Seokmin's hand on his head already.

"I bet he is plenty attractive to the point where you always return to him again and again."

At first, Myungho thinks that Seokmin is trying to poke fun at him, but judging at Seokmin's expression, Seokmin is genuinely saying what's on his mind without any malicious intentions.

"He is. He is smart and charismatic. He knows how to make a person feels important, special, and loved. He is an excellent cook too. Every time I come to his place, he always cooks me different dishes with exceptionally good taste."

Seokmin sighs in wonder. "He sounds so perfect. I bet he was popular back when he was a college student like us."

"I could imagine."

"For your record, I think you are attractive too, Myungho. I believe that deep down he thinks you're an important and special person in his life. He enjoys seeing you and having a conversation with you, just like the way I enjoy our swimming session and our conversations, just like what we are doing now."

"Thank you," Myungho smiles at Seokmin. "For your record, you have a knack for making other people feel better."

"Have I?" Seokmin smiles, a faint blush adorns his cheeks.

Myungho nods. "I want us to be this close even after we graduate."

Seokmin grins. "Me too! We can always be in touch with each other. You can visit my apartment anytime you want. We can watch movies, listen to our favorite music, paint each other's nails-"

"Wait," Myungho chuckles, " _paint each other's nails?_ "

"I haven't told you this, but I am pretty obsessed with painting my nails. I can't stop doing it because my nails look so pretty after I paint them."

Myungho laughs in amusement at the way Seokmin tells him his obsession with nail polish as if anyone other than him knows about it, the world becomes catastrophic. "That's weird but I don't hate it."

Seokmin looks excited. "My sister left several bottles of nail polish at my apartment. Will you help painting my nails? I always struggle painting my right-hand fingernails since I am not an ambidextrous person."

"I am pretty good at handling brushes, but I am not an ambidextrous person too, so I also need your help in painting my nails. Do you have pink glitter nail polish?"

"I have two bottles of it."

"Perfect."

Seokmin sits and picks up his guitar. He plays "Baby, I'm Yours" by Barbara Lewis and sings the song. After that, Seokmin drives Myungho's home and tells him that he has a very good night, and drives off.

That night, Myungho has a strange dream. In his dream, he floats in the sea with a clear blue sky above him. The summer temperature is ideal, the warm is comfortable enough on his skin but not too hot to make his skin feels burned. No sound comes to his ear except the sound of wind and small ripples on the surface of the water. There is neither a person nor a fish swims around him; he is totally alone floating on the sea. Despite being alone, he is strangely calm and in peace.

Suddenly, a pair of hands from below the water encircles his body and gently pulls him inside the warm seawater. As Myunho's body is fully submerged, he is little panicked and tries to hold his breath for a while. But, after he knows that he can breathe in the water, he stops trying to swim to the surface. He looks at the arms on his waist, still holding him. The hands are big with long fingers, calluses on the left hand fingertips. The person smiles gently at him, cups Myungho's hand with those unforgettable hands, and presses his soft lips to Myungho's. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine Seokmin playing guitar and singing to you in the open air 🌃


End file.
